


Telescopes

by Inastiel



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, jim kirk hates his birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:25:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1515440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inastiel/pseuds/Inastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim doesn't like his birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Telescopes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the amazing [Emily's](http://karlbourbon.tumblr.com/)birthday.

The Academy is abnormally silent in the falling dusk. There are no parties, no drunken behaviour, and no carefree students stumbling their way back to their dorms. A sombre mood has settled over the entire campus. Today marks the 23rd year after the Kelvin disaster.

It also marks Jim Kirk’s 23rd birthday, but not even he is celebrating.

The shadow of his father weighs heavily on Jim throughout the day. Cadets and instructors alike throw him sympathetic glances and murmurs of consolation. Jim himself is tired and worn. He’d avoided the memorial service held for the victims of the Kelvin disaster, knowing that it would only bring back painful memories of his mother’s grief stricken face, would only remind him of the father he could never know. Jim skirts around the ceremonies and sad glances and makes his way to the nearest grassy hill with a good bottle of bourbon.

He climbs his way up and finds himself a comfortable spot. The stars rotate silently above him, paying no heed to the broken son of a Starfleet hero. Compared to them he is only a speck of dust. Jim opens the bottle of bourbon with shaking fingers and sets about trying to fill the hollow spot inside of him.

He’s almost a quarter way through it and no closer to attaining blissful forgetfulness when a figure appears on the hill. Jim ignores it and concentrates on the stars.

“Been looking everywhere for you, kid.” Leonard says, flopping down on the grass beside Jim. His bag clatters next to him.

Jim feels his heart clench. He knows how this works. First the condolences come, and then maybe a brief mention of ‘happy birthday,’ and then a full discussion about how Jim’s father was a hero and how tragic his death was.

“Go away, Bones.” Jim tells him, because he can’t face yet another conversation about George Kirk and the Kelvin disaster.

Leonard simply looks at him. Jim can see the nebulae trapped in his friend’s eyes, and suddenly wishes he was far, far away from earth. Space is too big to focus on one tiny tragedy amongst the billions of others.

“Not likely.” Leonard replies and gazes up at the stars. Despite the city lights they are clearly visible.

Jim shoves the bourbon blindly in Leonard’s direction. Warm fingers close over the bottle and set it on the other side of Leonard, out of Jim’s reach.

“How drunk are you, Jim?”

Jim sighs. “Not enough.”

Leonard studies the bottle and then sits up. Jim warily does the same. Leonard must be leaving now. Good. There are much better things for him to do than sit around with a washed out son of a dead hero.

Leonard pulls a piece of grass from the ground and makes no move to go. “Do you know what my favourite constellation is, Jim?”

Jim blinks at this unexpected direction. “No.”

“Aquila, the eagle. It reminds me of you, flying through the heavens it belongs in, brave and strong and smart and worthy of the stars that make up its being.”

Leonard takes a shaking breath and then continues. “Your father died twenty three years ago, I know, and you’ve probably heard thousands of consolations today.”

Jim’s stomach drops. Leonard is going to be like all the others today, then, offering sympathies over his father’s death. Jim wants to scream.

“But one thing people forget is that while your father sacrificed himself, while the Kelvin burnt and people died and space suddenly became that much more dangerous, a life was born among the tragedy. You were born. I’m so glad you’re here, Jim.”

Jim’s throat closes and his vision begins to blur. It has been years since anyone remembered that while destruction happened, life did too.

Leonard reaches into his bag and fumbles for a moment, giving Jim a moment to compose himself. The tears threatening to spill begin to fall, and Jim angrily wipes them away.

Leonard holds out the rectangular box and gives Jim a smile. Jim takes it hesitantly.

“Open it.” Leonard encourages, and Jim does.

Nestled on cloth is a small telescope. It’s old and worn and obviously well used, but Jim finds himself drawn to it. He picks it up carefully.

“I know it’s not much-” Leonard begins.

“It’s perfect Bones. Thank you.” Jim manages to get out through the lump in his throat. A small signature engraved in the gold metal catches his eye.

E.M.

“What’s this?” Jim asks, curious. He traces the signature with a hesitant fingertip.

“The telescope was my great, great, great, great etc. grandmother’s, Emily McCoy. She loved astronomy. It’s been in my family ever since.”

Jim’s heart stutters. “This is a family heirloom?!”

Leonard picks up on Jim’s astonishment and rushes to reassure him. “I have no obligation to pass it onto family, but, well, even if I did, you’re basically family anyway.”

Jim swallows. “I’m not very good at family.”

“Neither am I.” Leonard admits.

Leonard reaches for his bag again and his hand emerges with two shot glasses. “I figured if we’d be drinking it best be in a civilized manner.”

Jim snorts. “Nothing civilized about drinking to forget.”

“What about drinking to remember?” Leonard pours him a glass and hands it to Jim. “A toast, then.”

Jim nods somewhat warily and raises his glass.

“To George Kirk and the Kelvin crew.” Leonard says, watching Jim carefully.

“To George Kirk and the Kelvin crew.” Jim echoes with a hitch in his voice and downs the shot. He puts it down, thinking that’s the end of it. It is what the day is about, after all.

However Leonard pours himself another shot. “To Jim Kirk.” He announces, and downs that shot too. Jim feels something warm settle in his chest.

“Happy birthday, Jim.” Leonard tells him, meeting his eyes. He smiles slightly, and Jim smiles too.

Maybe there is light in tragedy after all.


End file.
